


A Facade between brothers

by Chellelock (Ferrydenpurple)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom Mycroft, Dom/sub, M/M, One-Sided Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sibling Incest, Sub Sherlock Holmes, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-12 17:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2119353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferrydenpurple/pseuds/Chellelock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John drunkenly decides to confess his feelings for Sherlock but nothing could prepare him for what is waiting behind closed doors at 221b.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mine, wholly and truly

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Guys, this is my first fic on AO3 and my first attempt at smut so go easy on me :-) I hope you like it, there will be more to come.

‘I’m going to tell him…’

‘Look mate, leave it alone, Sherlock Holmes is marr-‘

‘Married to his work. I know Greg. I get it. But maybe, maybe he is just waiting for the right person. We have a connection, something, I feel it. I know he must feel it too but you know what he’s like, he’s waiting for me to make the first move. I have to tell him…’

‘John, mate, this is just the beer talking. Trust me, this is a bad idea. Sherlock has a –‘

‘A problem expressing his emotions, I know… I know. That’s why I have to make the first move, make him confront his feelings.’

John, please, this isn’t a good idea. What about Mary? What would she think of this?’

‘I know Greg but I’ve made my mind up, I love him, I’m telling him tonight.’

‘John…’

‘Sorry Greg, I’ve got to go and see Sherlock.’

‘Ok John, but remember I told you this was a bad idea.’

‘Cheers mate, I’ll let you know how it goes.’

***

John noted that the lights were still on in Baker Street so proceeded to let himself in. Though he had officially moved out 6 months ago to live with Mary he still had not gotten round to handing his key back. Sherlock had never minded when he had let himself in before so he didn’t see that it would be a problem. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that awaited him at the top of the stairs…

Mycroft sat in Sherlock’s chair, dressed to perfection as always in his sharp 3 piece suit, daintily sipping from a china tea cup. Sherlock was to his left, kneeling on the floor at his feet with Mycroft’s fingers carding through his hair, holding the saucer for Mycroft’s cup. He was naked save for a thick black leather collar with silver buckles and seemed to be sporting what was quite clearly a spectacular erection.

Mycroft looked up from his tea towards John with his usual bland politician smile. He held out his cup which was promptly taken by Sherlock and placed on the small side table next to him. Not once did Sherlock raise his eyes to look at John.

‘Can I help you John? Bit late for a social call isn’t it? Would you like some tea? Its first flush Darjeeling, I think you would find it to be quite… delightful…’ As he said this Mycroft began carding his fingers through Sherlock’s hair again, this time in a possessive gesture. Sherlock visibly leaned into the touch, a soft moan escaping from his lips.

John couldn’t believe the scene in front of him. He wanted to punch the smug look right off of Mycroft’s face.

‘What the FUCK is going on here!!’ John stood in the doorway clenching and unclenching his fists. He was going to get some answers, goddamnit!!

‘John, please keep your voice down,’ Mycroft chided, ‘consider the neighbours.’

‘…The…The bloody neighbours!! Fuck the neighbours! Tell me what the hell is going on!’

‘I should think that was rather obvious John, wouldn’t you?’ With that Mycroft let go of Sherlock’s hair, reached down and undid the fastenings of his trousers. John watched in horrid fascination as he pulled out his erect cock and Sherlock sat up higher, back straighter, still kneeling on the floor at Mycroft’s feet, gazing at Mycroft’s prick with undisguised longing.

Mycroft locked eyes with John until John felt he had to look away. ‘Stop this, Please stop this…this...madness!’ Still staring John straight in the eye Mycroft grabbed a hold of Sherlock’s hair and used it to guide his brother to his weeping hard cock. ‘No John, I don’t think I shall stop.’ John watched as Sherlock’s sinful lips wrapped around Mycroft’s thick prick, the sound of Sherlock’s delighted moan going straight to his own cock. The sight of that long tongue darting out to lap precome from the slit of Mycroft’s cock was almost more than he could bear.

John didn’t know what to do, he should go over there and punch Mycroft in his smug fucking face. But Sherlock didn’t seem to be coerced, in fact he seemed to be enjoying it, and he would be lying if he said the sight wasn’t going straight to his cock…But fuck it No! This was wrong! Fucked up and wrong!

John was snapped out of his reverie by Mycroft’s voice. ‘You see John, it’s really quite simple. What you see every day between us is simply a façade, a smokescreen to protect each other from the danger that both our jobs entail. The reality is this, we have been in a relationship for the past 15 years and are both, as you can see, very happy. ‘ John had to give Mycroft some credit, he was still surprising calm and collected considering his brother was giving him a rather enthusiastic looking blow job throughout his whole speech. ‘I could fuck him right now in front of you John and he would love it, wanton slut that he is. We do so seldom get the chance to show off, what with being brothers and all. But make no mistake John, Sherlock is mine, wholly and truly. Whatever misplaced declaration you burst in here dying to tell him, despite the fact that your wife is waiting for you at home, I suggest you forget it right now. Sherlock is mine and I do not share. If you would like, you may this once, watch, but that is all.’ At the mention of being watched Sherlock let out a sinful moan, the only indication that he had been paying attention to what was going on at all.

John was dumbstruck. He remained routed to the spot as Mycroft pulled Sherlock off of his cock and pushed him down to tongue at his balls. The enthusiastic lapping forcing his own growing erection to painful hardness. He still felt conflicted, he knew this was wrong, but he couldn’t deny wanting to see Sherlock come undone, even if it wasn’t by his own hand.

‘Let’s not pretend you haven’t already made your mind up Doctor Watson. Now, do please come in and shut the door.’

With that John knew he was done. He turned round and locked the door before slipping off his jacket and laying it on the sofa. He walked over and took a seat in his usual chair facing the pair and met Mycroft’s eyes once more. Mycroft met his stare with what John could only describe as a look of triumph and pulled Sherlock’s head back from his crotch. The resulting whimper that escaped Sherlock’s lips made Johns cock twitch. Mycroft dropped his gaze to his brother and looked at him with an almost tender expression before raising his eyes to meet Johns once more.

‘Now, let us begin…’


	2. as we are each others...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken me so long guys, life has gotten in the way a bit, but here it is at long last :-)

‘Now, let us begin…’

With those words Mycroft pulled Sherlock up towards him with a finger hooked under the front of his collar and brought their lips together for a positively filthy kiss that was more teeth and tongue than lips. John imagined Mycroft tasting himself on his brothers’ tongue and suddenly found he could scarcely breathe. After a long moment the brothers broke apart, Mycroft letting go of the collar and running his hand up the pale column of Sherlock’s neck, taking a firm hold of his chin and raising his eyes to meet his own for the first time since John’s arrival. The moment appeared almost unbearably tender to John as the brothers seemed to be joined in silent communication, Mycroft finally releasing Sherlock’s jaw when it seemed he had found what he was looking for in his eyes. 

Mycroft sat back in his chair, his posture pure unreserved arrogance, heightened by the fact that his trousers were still open leaving his spit slicked erection proudly on display.

‘Some tea first I think Sherlock, if you please.’

At Mycroft’s request Sherlock crawled to the small side table, still on his knees and proceeded to refresh Mycroft’s cup of tea and pass it back to him, along with the saucer this time. He then filled the second cup which had been on the tray, presumably put there for himself John thought, and shuffled over to John on his knees and offering him the cup, eyes demurely downcast the entire time. John took a sip of his tea before placing it on the table beside him. Mycroft was right, damn him, it really was rather good tea.

‘When you are finished serving the good Doctor please prepare yourself. Two fingers only, I want you to feel it when I stretch you open.’ Mycroft’s voice came as a shock in the silence, shattering the fragile bubble of content in the room and bringing the inherent tension lingering there to the fore. Sherlock inclined his head briefly in acknowledgement and grabbed a small bottle of lubricant off of the tea tray that John had not previously noticed. He did however feel that he could be excused for his deductive prowess being under par when confronted by a naked, extremely erect Sherlock crawling on his hands and knees into the floor space between the two chairs clutching a bottle of lubricant between his teeth.

Sherlock positioned himself on all fours between John and Mycroft facing away from both of the men with his legs slightly parted. He then proceeded to slick up two of his fingers and reach behind himself. As his first finger breached the tight ring of muscle he turned his head towards Mycroft and let out a low moan. John sat, tea forgotten as he watched the scene before him. Mycroft watched his brother with a predatory expression on his face. As Sherlock pushed a second finger into himself Mycroft reached down and started to stroke his erection in time with his thrusts. John could scarcely contain the groan that threatened to burst past his lips. He reached down and began to palm his own crotch through his jeans, eyes fixated on the two long fingers sliding their way in and out of Sherlock’s slick hole. 

‘And just what is it that you think you are doing?’ Mycroft was staring at John, eyebrow raised, mouth set in a firm line. His hand had stilled in its motions, as had Sherlock’s John noted. ‘Do not think for one second that any of this is for your benefit John. I said you could watch, nothing more. If you should attempt to touch yourself again this will all end.’ 

John quickly pulled his hand back from his crotch and placed both his arms on the arm rests of his chair, gripping the ends tightly. He could tell by the look in Mycroft’s eyes that he was serious about stopping and he wasn’t at all ready for this to be over yet. He could suffer a bit of discomfort now if it meant he got to see Sherlock come undone.

Mycroft turned his head to look back at Sherlock, who’s eyes had never left his face during their entire exchange, and gave him a small nod. With this Sherlock began fucking himself on his fingers again, wantonly moaning, jerking his hips back to meet his own hand. Mycroft began fisting his cock to the rhythm of Sherlock’s thrusts and John was enraptured by the sheer decadence of this moment. The sight of the two brothers getting themselves off to the image of each other, each man watching the other take pleasure in watching him was stunning. It was a sensory feedback loop that had Johns head spinning and his own breath coming in short pants. 

Before long Sherlock’s moans had digressed to needy whines, a sheen of sweat had settled on his body and his thighs had began to tremble with the continued assault of just-not-quite-enough pleasure that his own fingers were providing.

‘Please My….Please…’

‘Yes brother?’ 

‘My….’

‘Tell me what it is you need brother.’ Mycroft’s voice showed no signs of being affected by this exchange at all. He seemed, as always, to be in total control.

‘Your cock. I n-need your cock, My. Please.’

‘Very well. Come here.’

Sherlock scrambled over to Mycroft and resumed his kneeling position beside his chair. Mycroft ran his fingers through Sherlock’s curls before slipping his hand round to cup his chin and using it to raise his face, looking down into his eyes.

‘You are going to sit on my lap and face towards John so he can see how much you love it when you fuck yourself on my cock. Now brother mine, get on my lap and show John what a needy little cock slut you are.’

Sherlock eagerly complied with Mycroft’s command, straddling his lap so that they were back to chest, long legs draped over Mycroft’s own and feet firmly planted on the ground. Mycroft held the base of his cock steady and without further prompting Sherlock sunk down onto his erection, taking him all in one smooth motion. Sherlock’s mouth dropped open, a silent scream that spoke of pleasure beyond words. He wriggled a little on Mycroft’s lap, seating himself and raised his left arm round the back of his brothers head, anchoring himself in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. His other arm reached back to Mycroft’s hip for support as he began raising himself up off of his brothers cock before grinding down onto his lap again in short powerful motions.

Mycroft covered Sherlock’s hip with one hand, guiding his movements, canting his own hips upwards to meet his vigorous motions. Sherlock’s thighs were quivering with effort and slick with sweat and a rather pleasant flush was creeping up his chest to his throat. John watched mesmerised as Mycroft placed his other hand under Sherlock’s chin, tilting his neck up towards him, showing off his collar in a gesture that looked to John a lot like ownership.

‘Do you know why you are here John? Why I am letting you see this?’ John shook his head, unable to formulate words at the sight of the man that he loves enthusiastically riding his own brothers cock. ‘I am letting you see this, John, so you will know what you can never have. So you will know that he is mine, that what we have is more than you could ever even imagine to have. So that when you go back to your wife tonight and fuck her, picturing Sherlock’s face when you close your eyes buried in your wifes cunt, when you have to bite back his name when you come, you will know that he is unequivocally and irrevocably mine. And you will take your unwanted, unrequited affections elsewhere and realise that even if you were not married, even if you had not waited this long to express the depth of your feeling, he would still be mine, and you still would Not. Be. Me.’ The last three words were punctuated with 3 rather vicious thrusts of his hips, his hands driving Sherlock further down on to him, Causing him to cry out Mycroft’s name.

John saw total and utter possession in ever look and every touch Mycroft bestowed upon his brother. It was there in the sureness of his hands as he caressed Sherlock’s skin, in the certainty burning behind his eyes whenever he looked at him. But maybe it was more than that. The more he watched them together the more he saw that it wasn’t possession he was seeing. No, not possession, devotion. With that realisation he knew that Mycroft was right. Even if he hadn’t married Mary, even if he had told Sherlock years ago how he felt he could never be what Sherlock needed. He could never be Mycroft. They could never have found what Mycroft and Sherlock had found together because it simply wouldn’t have been there to find. 

John looked back over at Mycroft and Sherlock and saw what he had been blinded to before. The love. Mycroft had draped his arm supportively under Sherlock’s and around his chest, resting his palm between his neck and shoulder, his other rested on his hip, steadying his rhythm, coaxing him through his pleasure. Sherlock’s head was turned towards Mycroft’s, his mouth resting in the crease between his nose and mouth, both brothers breathing in the same air. Mycroft raised his mouth to Sherlock’s, not kissing him, but brushing their lips together in an altogether more intimate gesture. John could see that their climax was fast approaching. A soft sheen of sweat coated both of their bodies and their movements were becoming less coordinated. He realised then that this was not for him to see. As much as he had wanted to see Sherlock come undone, it was not his right to intrude on such an intimate moment between lovers. This moment was Mycroft’s and his alone.

He quietly gathered his coat from the sofa and re-locked the door on his way out. He was going home to Mary, where he should have gone from the start. He realised he needed to put some work into his marriage, he wanted what Sherlock and Mycroft had with each other. Maybe, just maybe, he could have that with Mary. 

***

He was on his way home when he received a text from Greg.

How did it go Mate? GL

On my way home to Mary, you were right, would’ve been a bad idea. JW

Glad to hear it. GL

What changed your mind? GL

Was it the collar? GL

Or was it the tea? GL

Mycroft’s tea is rather good. ;-) GL

John stopped walking as he read the texts that came through in quick succession, his jaw dropping open as he reached the last message. The bastard knew!

WHAT!?! How…? JW

That, my friend, is a story for another day. Go home to your wife, speak to you soon. GL

John shook his head in disbelief but didn’t text back. Greg would tell him the story one day he was sure. Right now he decided to do what he should have done in the first place; he was heading home to his wife.

***

Back in Baker Street Sherlock and Mycroft sat twined around each other in the arm chair. They had twisted positions so that Sherlock now sat straddling his brother’s waist, foreheads pressed together, breathing in the same air. Sweat cooling on exposed skin.

‘I think that went rather well, don’t you?’ Sherlock whispered into the space between their lips, voice hoarse and broken from being wrung out in pleasure.

‘Just so long as he knows that you are mine.’

‘As you are mine, brother dear.’

‘As we are each others…’


End file.
